SCENES IN THE GREAT WAR
over our shoulders at a telegraph office we told him to hold his tongue; and if, in stiflingly hot weather, he insisted (as he often did) on shutting up again and again the window of a railway carriage after we had opened it for a breath of air, we sometimes drove our, elbow through the glass for final answer—as I saw an English barrister do one choking day on the journey between Jaffa and Jerusalem.
These were only the straws that told how the wind blew, but they were disquieting symptoms nevertheless to such of us as felt, with Professor Harnack and his colleagues at the Edinburgh Conference, that by blood, history and faith, the German and British peoples were brothers (ugly as it sounds to say so now), each more closely bound to the other in the world-task of civilization than with almost any other nation.
"If we are brothers we'll fight all the more fiercely for that fact," we thought, "and, God help us, we'll fight soon."
"HE KNOWS, DOESN'T HE?"
I was staying in a neutral country at an hotel
much frequented by the German governing
classes when an English newspaper proprietor,
after a visit to Berlin, published in his most
popular journal a map of a portion of Northern
